To those who don’t see deeply
you are bland, lifeless, dull.
Color does not distract
from your humble beauty.
You are stripped, bare, essential.
This is the way of things.
I like you like this.
I have always commemorated
the inevitable waning of autumn
with wistful longing for what was.
Now, I’m content knowing your time
marks the boundary in between.
Your stillness holds me.
You are reassuring and solid.
How manifold you really are.
With leaves absent, the foundations
of things come into view.
All adornment and ornamentation
If only I could mirror
your humble, quiet strength.
You fortify yourself to embrace
the pain in your future.
In so doing, your struggle is lessened.
I take your teaching to my breast.
I feel roots growing from my feet.